


Determination Horror Show

by QuitePossiblyInsane



Category: Gregory Horror Show, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aborted Undertale Genocide Run, Frisk Is the Main Character, Ghost Chara (Undertale), Nonbinary Chara & Frisk (Undertale), Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, not planning on shipping anyone, occasional flashbacks to underground, rated T for violence language and peril, takes place at Gregory House
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27060682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuitePossiblyInsane/pseuds/QuitePossiblyInsane
Summary: When the anomaly tries to reset the timeline, Frisk, Chara and Flowey take matters upon themselves, permanently removing themselves from the world they knew, and allowing their friends and family to remain in the happy ending they bought with blood and dust.They expected to disappear.So when they appeared in a graveyard, outside of a strange hotel, in a place that made no sense...they were filled with DETERMINATION...and maybe just a little bit of fear.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

There was a bright flash that briefly blinded them. A buzz of electricity, and a neon drone, with the deep, bass rumble of thunder filled their head.

Thunder. And...the flash had been lightning. A neon sign stood stark against the dark sky, reading "Gregory House" in bold lettering, flickering as another clap of thunder shook the ground itself. Rain threatened to pour down at any moment, but Frisk didn't move, barely even breathing as they stared at the tall, dilapidated old building in front of them.

Chara waved an invisible hand in front of their face, _"Frisk. Hey, snap out of it! You're covering As' face!"_

A noticeable jolt went through the teen. They gave the ghost a sheepish grin, quickly shifting their arm down just as the flower's thorn-like teeth were about to snap down, "Sorry."

"You did that on purpose!" Flowey accused.

"No! I just...guys, do you have any idea where we are?" Their voice was soft, almost difficult to hear over the threatening growl of thunder. 

"Well, if the sign is anything to go by, someplace called Gregory House."

"That's not what I meant and you know it! I mean like--"

"Yeah, yeah. I know what you mean."

_"Well, we're not getting anywhere staying out here. Let's go inside!"_

"But _why_ are we here? We're supposed to be...I dunno. _Dead,_ or something!" They clutched the flower-pot that Flowey was in a little tighter.

_"How do you know we're not?"_

They frowned almost imperceptibly at Chara, "Well you're still a ghost."

 _"And Asriel doesn't have a soul anymore. So what? Maybe you're a zombie."_ They curled their fingers into a claw-like shape. There was a clear excitement in their eyes.

A few fat drops of rain began to splat onto the ground. A breeze picked up, smelling of dirt and damp and dust.

"Fine. Let's just...be careful." They walked toward the building, a confidence they didn't completely feel guiding their steps toward the old double doors.

It took a fair amount of effort to open the door, which gave a loud creak as it did. Just as they stepped inside, the rain came down in a rolling sheet behind them, falling right through Chara, who managed to get in just before the heavy door swung shut under its own weight, whether it was necessary to beat or not.

The lobby was cozy, if plain, with a coffee table and chairs sat in the centre of an old rug. It was clearly an older hotel setup, perhaps once a mansion of some kind, and later converted. A plain desk sat at the end of the room, behind which sat an elderly...mouse? No that old man was certainly a rat. A single candle lit the room, a clock above one of the doorways showing that the hour was as late as it had appeared to be outside.

He looked up, purple eyes turned in two directions, making it difficult to tell which eye focused on Frisk, "Oh my! You just barely made it in before the rain began to fall! How very lucky for you! Well then, welcome to Gregory House. I'm Gregory. Would you like a room?"

They paused for a brief moment, avoiding looking anywhere other than the old rat, "Oh. Um..."

 _"Is he a monster?"_ Chara moved through the desk to walk around him and examine him from all sides. Of course they weren't any help.

They did their best not to follow the ghost's movements, "Sorry. I don't uh. I don't have any money."

"Please don't worry about that. I wouldn't dream of sending you out into the rain at this hour!"

"Oh! Thank you! Are you sure?"

"Of course, my dear. I must say, though, we don't often get guests so late. You...aren't from around here, are you?"

They stood a little straighter. How could he possibly know that? They opened their mouth to speak, but he continued before they could get a word out.

"We don't have many neighbours, of course, so perhaps that was just a lucky guess, hehehe," a smile spread over his snout, "Now, if you don't mind dear, I'll just need a name for the guestbook, and I can show you to your room for the evening."

They shot Chara a glance under the guise of looking around the lobby, before returning their eyes to Gregory, "My name is Frisk," they said after a moment.

"And a surname?"

They paused, looking down, "Um. Dreemur," they said after only a moment of hesitation, "Two 'e's and a 'u.'"

"My! What a lovely name. Well, please do follow me...Ms? Mr? Dreemur? I'm sorry, I can't quite tell."

"Oh, no, no. I'm ah. Nonbinary." They said quickly.

"Ah. Forgive me, my dear. These old eyes aren't what they used to be. Right this way." He moved out from behind the desk, taking up a key and the candle the lit the area, and leading the way toward a door to the left.

The wood creaked under their feet, as they went, Chara close behind, and Flowey keeping quiet in their arms, pretending, at least for the moment, to be an ordinary flower.

They moved down the hall a short way, past a strange padlocked door, to a room labelled 103.

Frisk paused by the metal door, before moving on to the next, "Excuse me, Gregory? Why is that metal door there? Isn't this a hotel?"

The rat looked up, "It's really best you not ask too much about that room, my dear. The guest in there is from a family who caused quite a lot of trouble for my family in the past, you see. But one day, he had a terrible accident. So now it is my responsibility to care for him. Perhaps I'll tell you his story another time. But for now, please, rest. You look _exhausted."_

"But wait--"

The lock clicked open, and he pushed the door open before handing Frisk the key, "Goodnight, dear. I had best be making my rounds."

They took it, watching him shuffle off down the hallway.

Chara chuckled, _"He really shut you up, didn't he?"_

They glared, keeping quiet in case anyone was listening, and stepping into the small, bare-bones room. It had a bed, a desk, a chair and a closet. And...well, not much else. A picture hung on one wall, of oddly familiar flowers, and dim, flickering lamp sat on the desk, next to a small bookshelf. Frisk closed the door behind them, and set down Flowey's pot on the sill of the shuttered window, before sitting down on the bed.

"Y'know. Now he says it...I am pretty tired. Wasn't it like...noon, back home?" They kept their voice low, but it was impossible to hide their sudden lethargy.

"I don't know, but that guy gave me the creeps."

_"Everyone gives you the creeps, Asriel. You always were a baby."  
_

The flower's stem tilted in a way that imitated arms crossing, "Well if I'm such a baby, then why don't you follow him around, and see if I'm right?"

_"No."_

"Whose the baby now?"

_"Still you. I'll have you know, I'm...well, I'm actually kind of tired too."_

He frowned, "You too?"

"Maybe it's from leaving our...I dunno. Our world I guess?"

"Well I feel fine."

"You don't have a soul," Frisk pointed out, "Not to be rude or anything, but I mean...maybe it's just something to do with that?"

"I'm hurt. Look at me. You've _hurt_ me. I'm in agony. No. Really."

"Well then I _am_ being rude," they leaned down to untie their boots.

A soft knock came from the door.

Frisk stood without thinking, heading over and opening, nearly tripping over their own shoelaces, "Yyyes?"

Gregory stood in the dark hallway, candle in one hand, a pitcher of water in the other, "I noticed your flower, and thought you might like some water for it. And for yourself, of course."

"Oh. Um...thank you. I'll take it."

"No trouble at all. Is the room to your liking? I thought I heard you talking to someone."

They took the pitcher in both hands, "I was uh. I was just talking to myself. Head gets a...little noisy sometimes."

"Ah, of course. Even the best of us can hear voices in these old rooms. We all have our little ways of dealing with it, don't we?"

They nodded, "Right. Goodnight, Gregory."

"Goodnight my dear. Sleep well."

The door shut. They set the water down on the sill next to Flowey for him to drink as he pleased, before sitting on the bed again and giving a soft sigh as they finished taking off their shoes, "Flowey's right. He is creepy."

 _"You're a baby too."_ They yawned as they spoke.

"Maybe I am. Better safe than sorry. Flowey, can you keep watch while we sleep?"

"Oh, _sure._ I'll just knock this water pitcher on whoever tries to come in."

"Don't be a jerk. Just yell, and one of us can wake up."

"Fine. We're talking about this when you get up though."

"Fair enough."

They turned out the lamp on the desk, casting the room in the staticky void of closed eyes, multicoloured flecks of light burned into their eyes as they climbed back into bed, and under the covers.

It wasn't very comfortable, but they were proud of their ability to sleep nearly anywhere. With little effort, they managed to drift off, the strange sounds of this strange hotel making a disjointed sort of music that lulled them to sleep.

The soft music of footsteps, and creaking floorboards, and distant clocks, and hushed voices was interrupted come morning by a shrill and ear-piercing shriek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed chapter 1 of DHS! If you have any comments, questions, theories or anything else, please feel free to throw me a comment down below. I usually reply within a day or two! 
> 
> This chapter's question is; Which fandom brought you here? Undertale, Gregory Horror Show, or both? Answer in the comments!


	2. Chapter 2

_Dry, powdery dust clung to their hands. Tears ran down their face, but they couldn't stop. Every shuffling step that took them forward, trailing the dull remains of the monsters they had killed, left them drained and resigned to their fate. The cloying scent filled their head, and their breath rattled in their chest with each lungful of damp, dusty air. Their soul ached with every kill. They couldn't bring themselves to whisper the apologies that they screamed in their own head, as they tore through the people they would one day call friends and family....  
_

* * *

A scream jolted Frisk awake, causing them to almost fall out of the narrow bed. They clung to the edge, trying to catch their breath, doing their best to try and determine whether the unsettling dream had been the source of the scream, or if it had come from real life. It took them a few seconds to decide to look around. Chara didn't seem to be visible to them at the moment, or at least not in the room, and Flowey had passed out at some point, leaving them alone. The shoved back the blanket, standing up in a quick motion and cracking the shutter that looked outside.

It was...still dark? Maybe they had slept longer than they meant to. Hadn't it been almost midnight by the time they arrived?

They shook their head, pulling the shutter closed again, and moving to crack open the door and peak through.

The hall was empty. Sounds came from both rooms to either side. They hesitated, grabbed the key, and stepped outside, locking the door behind them, and shuffling on socked feet in the direction they thought the scream might have come from. A warm glow of DETERMINATION washed through them, their instincts on edge as they approached the door to room 104.

It was labelled with the name "Catherine," with a picture of a syringe on the plaque. Someone was shouting inside the room. Presumably Catherine.

"...find who was messing with my..." the voice was drowned out by something being moved, "I bet it was Gregory! That horrible old man. They're all the same!" Her footsteps moved toward the door.

It slammed open before they could move out of the way, knocking them back, as a pink lizard-woman, with darker pink spots came out of the room, wearing an outdated nurse's uniform, a massive syringe tucked under one arm.

Frisk hissed in pain when the door hit them, stepping back as quickly as they could and rubbing their arm where the brunt of the force had been taken.

"Oh! Oh my, what a sweet child! I'm so sorry, are you alright?" The woman moved across the hall quickly, taking their arm firmly in one hand, "Let me see, did you get hurt?"

The teen froze under the touch of the nurse, staring at the massive needle from behind messy bangs, "Oh, I'm fine actually. I swear," they said quickly, even as she rolled up their sleeve.

"Hmm...yes, it's just a little bruise," she sounded almost disappointed, "Well then, what were you doing eavesdropping at my door?"

They shrank back as best they could. Thunder boomed outside, drowning out their thoughts. It took a moment for speech to return to them, "I uhh. I heard a scream. I was...worried, I guess."

Her eyes opened a little wider, "Oh!~ How sweeet of you! What an absolute angel," she brushed a few clawed fingers through their hair, moving it out of their face, "Well then, angel, my name is Catherine. I'm the nurse here. If you ever need any help at all, you come to me, alright?" She was still uncomfortably close.

"Oh it's nice to um. It's nice to meet you. My name is Frisk," they replied quickly, "I probably won't need any help, though. I'm only here for the one night."

"Just the one? Well then, at least allow me to give you a proper checkup! Free of charge. I couldn't possibly send you out into that cold, cruel world without proper medical care!"

They looked down, hair falling back into their eyes, "I'll um...I'll consider it. Thank you Catherine. I think I need to...to water my plant, now. I'll see you later."

She giggled, leaning in and planting a motherly kiss on their cheek, "I look forward to it!~" She practically sang, before turning to walk down the hall.

The sharp needle-point of the syringe just missed their throat as it swung in front of them. They could feel the colour drain from their skin, and for a moment they felt slightly ill. It took too long for the nausea to pass. They counted their breaths, before moving back to their room, unlocking it and slipping inside.

The small space between the door and the window was closed in three steps. They shook the flower pot, an ill-timed thunderclap drowning out their voice, "Flowey!"

The flower jerked awake, mouth briefly toothy and eyes like empty sockets, "WHAT?"

"I...I didn't want to be alone," they muttered.

"So you woke me up? Where's Chara?"

"I dunno. I think they went off to explore," they replied, shrugging, "Or maybe they're still sleeping."

"Hm. What happened, anyway? Not that I care, but you're normally fine on your own."

They shook their head, "I guess I'm just on edge. I had a bad dream, and someone screamed, and I just...I dunno," they took the flower pot down off the sill, hugging it into both arms.

The flower made a small sound of realisation, "Wait, Frisk...have you tried loading back yet?"

"I...no. I tried placing down a save before I went to the door, but I don't know if it'll work here. I...don't want to depend on it if I don't have to, and I _really_ don't want to have to repeat that conversation with the lady next door again," they shivered almost imperceptibly.

"Hmph. Well, try to save as often as you can. We'll try reloading later. But if anything happens to you, and you can't load, I'm taking your soul myself."

"Yeah, that was always the deal. I just hope it works here...or maybe not. I'm pretty sure these people aren't monsters the way mom and the others back home are."

Flowey stayed quiet. The quiet stretched on for too long. They could almost hear the sound of Toriel, panicked, looking for them. They hadn't had a chance to warn her.

The silence was broken by the sound of their stomach rumbling, rapidly drawing their attention to their hunger. A woeful look crossed their face, "Do you think they have food here?"

"Here's hoping. I _can_ do the plant thing with soil and photosynthesis, but I sure as stars don't want to," his tone was as grumpy as usual.

The familiarity was enough to calm them a bit, "I think one of the doors was labeled as the dining room. Why don't we see if food comes with the room? I'll just...I dunno. Tell them you're a carnivorous plant or something."

"I'm not eating any bugs."

"Well do _you_ want to tell them you're the soulless memory of a dead monster prince, fused with a flower by pure determination?"

"We could at least start with me being conscious, smart-ass," he snapped back.

"Okay, but if we have to explain, it's on you."

"Oh that's fine! In fact, why don't you go back to playing silent protagonist, let your _best friend_ Flowey do allllll the talking?" His tone took on a chipper note, a bright grin spread across his face between the golden petals, "I know you don't like fighting, so just leave it to me!"

"We're _not_ fighting anyone, Flowey."

He groaned, "Oh don't tell me you actually want to _help_ these people?"

"If we find out my saves and loads work, then...maybe I do."

"And what if they have more in common with me than they do with you, little monarch?" He was crawling out of the shallow soil in the pot, more roots and vines than could have been underneath it extending to allow the plant to wrap around their arm, hooking into their shirt as he tried to find a good position.

"Then maybe I can't. But I spared you, too, and...if I'd given up in the Underground just because I was scared, then they wouldn't've made it to the surface."

"Maybe, but you _did_ kill them all first."

They flinched, grip loosening on the flowerpot, leaving it to drop and shatter onto the hard wooden floorboards, "Shut up."

He just barely managed to cling to their arm, roots digging slightly into their skin through their shirtsleeve, as the ends of them were ripped free from the soil. He gave a harsh, slightly distorted laugh, "What, sore topic? You're not going to get anywhere by denying the truth. The anomaly may have been in control, but you still know what it felt like to watch everyone dust by your hand."

"I didn't kill Undyne, or anyone after Waterfall. The anomaly gave up after her. They got their happy ending. And we came here to make sure they kept it. I'm not going to turn toward violence now that I finally have a choice."

"Hmmph. Fine. Do it your way. But you know my opinion."

"You only ever started killing people because you knew they'd reset, and you never had a soul to rack up your Level Of ViolencE. I only did it because I wasn't in control. Now I'm _not_ talking about this anymore," they slipped on their boots, tucking the laces rather than tying them, and heading toward the door, making the turn toward the lobby without bothering to lock the door, now that there was nothing they needed to worry about being stolen in the room.

While they did have some food in their inventory, and it hadn't occurred to them that they might not be able to access it, they wanted to save what they could for later, and fill up on whatever was on hand while they could.

The door creaked as they stepped out of the hall, into the better lit lobby. Gregory sat behind the desk across the way, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, a magazine held up close. He didn't seem to notice Frisk right away.

They cleared their throat, "Ah. Excuse me, Mr. Gregory?"

He jumped, as if slightly startled, "Oh! My apologies, my friend. I was just catching up on some light reading," he said, quickly shoving the book underneath something else, "Just Gregory is fine, though. How can I help you?"

"I uhh. I was wondering when I'm supposed to check out? It's dark out, so I guess I slept through the day. Sorry about that."

"We're actually quite lucky if we get even an hour or so of daylight a week. The weather here is so dreadful, I'm not surprised that you couldn't tell it was still morning. As for checkout, please don't worry about that. I can't imagine there's anywhere for you to go, without any money to your name! I mean...did you have someplace in mind?"

They froze, looking away for a moment, thick bangs covering their eyes again, "I...guess I don't really have anywhere else to go, no."

"Hmm...but, I can't simply allow you to stay here free of charge..." He muttered.

Flowey tightened on their arm in warning that he was about to loose his temper, making their bruise hurt.

Before either of the guests could say anything, Gregory spoke again, "I know! My old bones just aren't what they used to be. So while you're staying here, it will be your responsibility to take care of some basic housekeeping. You'll get room, and board, and access to all the hotel facilities. You just need to clean up the rooms when asked, and maybe run errands for me occasionally. How does that sound?"

They paused for only a moment before answering, "Yes. That...sounds like a good deal. Just until I can figure out some things."

"Excellent. For now, get yourself something to eat. You've almost missed breakfast. Our chef would be most displeased if you do. He doesn't like to see _anyone_ go hungry."

"Of course. Thank you."

"Not a problem, my dear. I'll have a list of chores, and a map of the grounds in your room for you by tomorrow morning. For now, please feel free to see what the hotel has to offer."

They nodded, heading toward the dining room.

"By the way," his voice stopped them mid-step, "Was that flower always on your sleeve?"

"Oh...um. Well, you see, he's--"

Flowey opened his eyes, twisting his stem to face Gregory properly, "Well, golly! You caught me. My name is Flowey! Flowey the flower! Sorry I didn't say anything last night! We had a pretty long trip to get here. But don't worry! I can help Frisk out with moral support!" The pistil in the middle of his petals displayed a slightly unnerving smile, reminiscent of a happy face.

The old rat's brows shot up, and he removed his reading glasses, "I see! Well I apologise for not greeting you sooner. Is there anything I can do to make your stay with us more comfortable, my friend?"

"He stays with me. I can take care of him," Frisk replied before Flowey could, "Thank you again." They took the last few steps toward the dining room, opening the heavy door.

"And is there anyone else I should know about?" He asked from the desk. His tone sent a shiver down their spine.

"Nope!" Flowey answered, waving a leaf as they stepped into the dining room and shut the door without another word on their part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! There we go! I hope this chapter fills you with DETERMINATION, and that you have a wonderful, horrifying day. Love you all, and thanks for reading!
> 
> This chapter's question; Have you ever played either Undertale, or one of the Gregory Horror Show games (Soul Collector, and Lost Qualia)? Which one?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to several re-writes of this chapter, Judgment Boy will be appearing in Chapter 4 rather than 3.

Frisk was sleeping when Chara woke. It was early, though it was difficult to tell how early. Time didn't seem to run the same way here.

The ghost watched Asriel and Frisk sleep for a few minutes, before boredom got the better of them, and they slipped out of the room.

They moved down the hall, heading right toward the large, metal door, and plowing right through it, into what looked like a cell, but less luxurious. No furniture, no bathroom, the floor and walls were made of stone instead of the strangely tinted wood and wallpaper that took up the halls and other rooms. There wasn't even a light or window in here.

A figure sat against one wall, a thick manacle clamped to one leg. Patchwork fur that ran in multiple directions was stitched together, pulled tight in some spots, and hanging loose in others. One eye was almost completely sewn shut, a slit pupil peering from between the stitches. The other had been mostly torn free, flayed eyelids slightly squinted to keep from pulling at the last two stitches. His mouth was sewn shut, unable to open more than an inch or so. Ears were partially stitched on, and at least one of the limbs were coming loose. The zombie cat barely seemed to be held together, and it was with no small amount of fascination that Chara found themself staring openly at him.

Slitted orange eyes caught the small amount of light filtering into the room through the keyhole, glowing from black sockets and seeming to meet their red ones steadily.

"What are you doing here?"

Chara looked around rapidly, but no one else was in the room, _"I....me?"_

"There's nobody else in here, is there?" He leaned back against the wall, tilting his head back, one ear twitching slightly.

 _"You can_ see _me?"_ They moved from the doorway to sit in front of him on the floor, leaning in, possibly a little too close.

"Of course I can," he replied. His voice was quiet, dry and laboured, "Now. What are you doing here? It isn't safe for unaccompanied souls to be wandering around this place."

A chill ran through them, but they shrugged it off, _"I was just seeing what's around. The body I borrow sometimes is sleeping. How isn't it safe?"_

"So you're with the guest down the hall," he hummed quietly, "I suppose...it isn't safe for anyone. Not really. If you want to know what I mean...why don't you try to leave?"

 _"Try to...? I can go straight through the door, you know,"_ they pointed out.

"Just try. Oh, and when you come back...bring me some chocolate, will you? I'm so hungry..."

Their eyes lit up, and they stood, _"Where's the chocolate?"_

"In the kitchen...yes...but you should really try to go out the door first."

 _"Give me five minutes."_ They plowed through the wall, heading first for the lobby, paying no mind to the layout as they went.

It was better lit now than it had been when they'd arrived. The old rat was nowhere to be seen.

They practically glided toward the door, excited for the prospect of chocolate, even if they had to possess someone to eat it. Those thoughts were knocked from their head as they smacked into the door at speed. They drifted back from the impact, otherwise frozen with shock for a few seconds, before they made another attempt to go through the door, hands out to catch them this time.

The old wooden door thumped with the impact. They tried the handle, but their hand phased right through it. When they made the effort to become solid enough to effect physical objects, the door handle hardly felt real to them, and turning it was next to impossible.

 _"What the fuck...?"_ They muttered, kicking the door with a booted foot, and almost flinching at the effortless impact. Another loud thunk echoed through the room, _"I've gotta remember to tell As and Frisk about this when they're up...."_ _  
_

The door behind the front desk opened, and Gregory peaked out, looking around, "Hello? Is anyone there?"

Chara quieted, resisting the urge to knock the candle out of the old rat's hand, and instead moving toward the dining room and kitchen to steal the chocolate so they could sit down with Neko Zombie and ask what the hell was going on here.

* * *

Frisk shrank down in their chair under the watchful red eyes of the tall, imposing candle-monster(?) that was the Chef, staring down at the questionable meal in front of them. They couldn't begin to recognize what ingredients had gone into the dish. It bubbled and almost _pulsed_ in an unnatural way that made them queasy.

"Eat." The Chef's tone left little room for response, let alone argument.

The teenager sat up a little straighter, taking up the spoon of hard-to-define, oil-slick-like soup in a white-knuckled hand, determined not to offend the terrifying man.

"Don't tell me you're _actually_ going to eat that?" Flowey spoke up, not bothering to disguise his disgust.

Hell's Chef growled, raising his massive knife slightly, "Is there...a problem?" He asked, looking ready to turn the flower into a salad.

"Yeah! You're obviously trying to poison us. What is this, gasoline?"

His candle flame grew brighter, along with the red of his eyes, "Soup." He replied firmly, "You will eat. Presentation...is not flavour."

"Don't be rude, Flowey," Frisk hissed, shoving the spoonful into their mouth before they could lose their nerve.

They froze mid bite, eyes wide behind messy bangs. They went for another spoonful before they could fully process the layers of flavour, and superb texture of the food. By the time Flowey could say anything, they had set aside the spoon, and picked up the bowl to drink it directly, poor manners be damned.

"Oh, come on. It can't be that good," he sounded uncertain, even as the Chef fixed him with an expression that could only be interpreted as either threatening, smug or both.

"Mmmm. You should try it," they managed between gulps, wiping their mouth with a napkin, and finishing their bowl, "That was fantastic, Chef! Is there any more?"

"Later....secret ingredient....not safe in large quantities."

The flower frowned at his own, smaller dish of soup, using a vine-like appendage to pull it toward him, and take a sip. His expression twisted in a way that shouldn't have been physically possible, and he turned his stem to look toward the Chef, "Is that _nightshade?_ "

Hell's Chef's eyes narrowed from the darkness of his face, "Secret ingredient."

"Wait. Is that...safe at all?" Frisk couldn't seem to manage a frown, but there was a fair amount of worry building up.

The Chef leaned in slightly. His knife would have been uncomfortably close if not for the table between them. Wax dripped down in a slow line from the lit candle of his hat, "Creative cooking. Safe as long as you're careful. You work here. You live for now."

"You know, I'm not really hungry. Frisk, shouldn't you be getting to work?"

They nodded slowly, standing up and bowing their head at the Chef, "Thank you for the delicious meal," they said quietly, "I need to familiarize myself with the hotel." They moved out of the room without another word, Flowey clinging to their arm.

They didn't see Gregory as they walked rather quickly back, entering and closing the door firmly behind them. The flower pot had been swept up while they were gone, though they couldn't see anyone who may have done it. Maybe it was the rat. A map of the hotel sat on the desk, along with a short list of daily chores. Chara was in the room, just solid enough to lounge on the bed without phasing through it.

_"There you are! I've got to talk to you."_

"Same. You first."

_"Alright, so, the cat zombie in the locked room? Yeah, he can see me. I dunno who else can see me, at this point. I've been avoiding staying in one place too long. The bigger thing, though--"_

"Wait, someone else could see you? I get why me and Flowey can, but why would anyone else be able to?"

 _"I dunno, but that doesn't matter! So what I was saying was that I think we're stuck here. I tried to go through the door, and I couldn't. Like, audibly ran into it. There's something weird about this place, Frisk,"_ they sat up on the bed, _"I barely have to try to touch solid stuff. And the zombie cat told me that it's not safe for me here, or something? Something about unaccompanied souls. There is something really fucking weird about this place."_

"I was going to say something similar, but...I didn't realise it went that far. You're sure there's no way out? The window opens to outside, doesn't it?"

_"I checked it. It's an enclosed courtyard. All the outer walls stop me the same, and I can't seem to go over them."_

"Shoot...."

"You're allowed to swear, Frisk."

"No thank you," they replied evenly, "So. What's the plan then?"

"Didn't you want to try and _save_ everyone?" Flowey replied with forced cheer.

"Well...I mean, maybe. If we're trapped, then it can't be just us. Chara, did Neko Zombie seem willing to work with us?"

_"He's got a ball and chain stuck to his leg, but he helped me eat chocolate without possessing him, so he's not against us."_

"Your standards are fascinating as always," the flower mumbled.

"We should start...I guess by meeting who we can? So we can gauge who'll work with us, and who'll need more convincing."

_"That list of chores that Gregory left here has a bunch of names and room numbers on it."_

"So we start with that, then. Chara, did you want to ride along, so you aren't seen?"

They sighed, _"Might as well. Got nothing better to do. I'll poke around in your head to get the details of what happened on your end."_

"That's the deal," they took up the paper and the map. The map was large, with multiple pages, though some of them appeared to be incomplete.

The ghost phased into the still-living teen without hesitation. They had done this before, and it wasn't as if Frisk was unused to being controlled by outside forces. Someone else in their head was no big deal. 

_Where to first?_ Chara's voice came through as a particularly strong thought.

"Let's just start with this floor. We already met Catherine and the Chef," they looked over the list, "You met Neko Zombie. That leaves Clockmaster and his son...uh....MySon."

"He literally named his kid, 'My Son?' How egotistical does he have to be?"

"Maybe it's just a weird spelling for Mason? Anyway, that's rude," they looked over the list, "There's also another family on this floor. Mummy Papa, Mummy Mama, and their son Mummy Dog. I uh. Guess they're not big on non-descriptive names here. And then there's someone called Judgment Boy. He's the only one here who doesn't have a family with him that we haven't met yet, so maybe we start with him first?"

"Whatever. You're the protagonist."

"Shut up. Let's go. His room isn't numbered. It's just called 'the judgment factory,'" they tucked the list into their inventory, heading out of the room and around the hall, staring down at the map as they walked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! If you did, feel free to comment down below. 
> 
> This chapter's question is; What colour is your soul?


	4. Chapter 4

Frisk stopped just outside the door, double-checking the label and hesitating before knocking.

"JUDGMEEEEENT!!!!" The voice was sudden, loud and slightly overexcited.

They jumped, slightly startled. Flowey tightened on their arm, and they could even feel Chara's doubtful...well, _judgement_ from within them.

"Ahem. Come in!" The same voice said after a moment, tone polite, and slightly too formal in a way that made them think of a child playing game-show-host.

The human took a breath, and nodded, opening the door and stepping into the dark room.

It was lit only on the side they had entered on, the ceilings stretching higher than they could see. The wooden floor disappeared into complete darkness, and the sound of heavy machinery echoed from far deeper than should have been possible, given the size of the room on the map. In roughly the middle of the visible part of the room, suspended from a chain that stretched up toward the impossibly high ceiling, was a strange figure even by the standards of the underground.

A sentient pair of scales, with a slightly stitched face, and a pair of glasses that made his eyes seem huge. His entire aesthetic was almost clown-like, from deep orange skin, to a clownish nose, to bright pink, purple, and yellow clothing, all offset by sharp, slightly intimidating, oni-like teeth that stretched in too wide a grin, and messy blond hair, eyebrows arched in an expression befitting of his name. Weights dangled from his torso, clipped together by heavy hooks and eye-bolts. The scales hung on the ends of pole-like arms, delicate cages taking the place of the dishes at the end of the chains. In one, sat a lump of gold, seeming to glow with its own light. In the other sat a...a soul?

...no.

Not a soul. It was too translucent, and not as bright. Though it certainly produced some light of its own, it wasn't what they had come to associate with the appearance of their soul.

"Ah, you're the new guest! I'm glad to meet you," his voice was no less obnoxious than it had been through the door, "Hmmm. I see. You are a very interesting case indeed..."

He seemed to lean in without even moving, making Frisk hyper aware of just how much bigger he was than them.

"I'm...sorry?" They rose a brow behind their messy fringe, staying stubbornly in place.

"Oh don't mind me. I can imagine you're here for one thing. Gregory sent you to get to know everyone, is that right?"

They almost felt compelled to answer, "Yes. I...don't really have anywhere to go, so he offered me a job," they replied carefully.

He almost laughed, "No I don't imagine you do! Now...which of you shall I welcome first...hmm...well, since you're the one doing the talking...." He trailed off a moment, pausing before returning to full volume, "FRISK!!! JUDGMENT!"

_Ow._ How had he known their name? What the hell did he mean by which...did he know about Chara? No, no, he had to be talking about Flowey...hopefully....

They felt the heat of the spotlight on them before they saw it. They suddenly felt as if the space around them stretched, and pulled, leaving them alone on a stand, unable to move. A forced calm swept through them, even as creeping anxiety climbed their skin like goosebumps.

"You are an empty shell, a vessel with a SOUL, but no will of your own when the circumstances are just wrong. Whether through miracle or mercy, you have been given a happy ending, a mother you never had, and friends that make you almost believe you might be real. Friends whom you vividly remember slaughtering every night when you sleep. But despite all of this, they still care about you. And after awhile, you can almost forget the nightmares...."

Frisk's voice was frozen in their throat. They couldn't speak. They couldn't move their hands to sign, assuming he even understood it. Their breath was forced slow and calm, entirely against their will.

"Then one day, fear strikes you. You can't be certain, but you, puppet that you are, think you feel the strings beginning to tug," his long chain pulled him up slightly for dramatic effect, before dropping him back down with a final-sounding clatter, "So, you have a choice to make. Do you stay and fight the being who made you hurt all those you hold dear? Or do you run like a coward, leaving them to the entity's clearly limited mercy? After all...your love of them is what makes you real...but your determination is what makes you strong. So which piece of yourself do you choose to break?"

The compulsion to speak was uncomfortable, a bubbling of words in their throat that didn't quite want to come out, "That's not...th-the anomaly can't act without me. I did what I had to..."

He quirked a brow, "Hmmm?"

"I'm not going to take away their happy ending. They can be happy without me. And...I can't risk hurting them... I am determined to do the right thing. Even if that means I'm...less real."

"Let's ask the SCALES OF TRUTH," he spun, suddenly and rapidly, sending the cages flying outward in a gold and red streaked ring of light. When he stopped, the heart dropped from the bottom of its cage, shattering on the ground.

They felt a pang in their SOUL, watching the glass scatter on the floor, before their eye was drawn away from the dark shadows that moved in to clean up the mess.

"You choose to leave, sacrificing the love you have only barely started to feel. Your new mother and father both break down from the loss of another child, leaving monsterkind leaderless in a world run by humans. Your remaining friends scatter, unable to bear seeing one another without thinking of how you brought them together. They are happy enough, but they often think of what might have been. Your heart breaks, and grows cold, the distant influence of the being you tried to escape making the world you tried to protect, and the world you fled to all the worse for your efforts. Your capacity to harm grows with it. This is the truth. You have to live with it."

He watched them, almost contemplating, as the shadowy, small stage-hands climbed some previously invisible rigging, replacing the heart in the proper cage, and closing it. Normally, he'd have turned and left them to contemplate their judgment, but this was his room, and there were more souls to be judged.

Finally, he spoke again, the slightest amount of pity prompting him to continue, "The sin does not exempt the sinner from redemption. You still have a chance to regain your humanity. But you have an equal chance to lose all that you have left. There will always be more choices to make."

Their eyes were dull, almost expressionless. They slowly nodded, "Is uh...every conversation with you going to be this....intense?"

"Not at all! This is just how we Judgment Boys get to know people. You enjoy your stay, Frisk. I hope your friends are prepared for their judgments as well. But for now, I'll bid you good day. You have much to do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this half asleep, as sort of a recap to get me back into the plot because I'm tired, and also to get a feel for Judgment Boy's character a bit more, because I've mostly been been bothering to translate the conversations with JB Gold in the Lost Qualia game. Anyway, have a great night.
> 
> Tonight's question is; Love, or LOVE?


End file.
